Sherlock's Ignorance
by Way Worse Than Scottish
Summary: Sherlock is really extremely honestly bored. John and Sherlock go off on an outing, leading to stories of childhoods and a secret Sherlock's been hiding. No slash, but can be read so, if you wish.


Basically a longish oneshot

it was originally 4 chapters, but they'd be waaay too short

now, quick side note: when I say 'sitee" i mean couch, its just something that my grandfather always said and I gained that habit

John had finally had enough. Sherlock hadn't come out of his mind-palace in ten hours, and he hadn't moved from the sitee in two days. John had force fed him eggs about then hours ago, and Sherlock was sipping his cold tea every now and then. There hadn't been a case in a while, and John no longer allowed severed limbs or digits or heads appearing in the fridge, freezer, or general eating area. Who knows how many body parts were hidden in Sherlock's room. John had also taken away Sherlock's gun, though he knew Sherlock could easily get another one, if he ever got his butt off the sitee. He was just too goddamn lazy to, John figured, so he assumed the walls in the flat were safe from bullets for a little while.

"That's it Sherlock!" John yelled, waving his arms about angrily.

"Well, assuming by your expression from the past five minutes, you're distraught with my state of being." Sherlock analyzed quickly. "BORED John. Bored! My mind is a muscle and there. Is. Nothing. Going. On. MY BRAIN IS DYING!" Sherlock leaned back, pushing his hair from his eyes. "I'm done even analyzing people on the street. I'm **bored** John. Entertain me."

"Fine then, get ready. We're going on an outing. Ms. Hudson is going mad with you up here anyhow." Sherlock sprung up, grabbing his coat and scarf, putting them on gracefully. He glided out of the flat. He popped his head back through the entrance. "Coming John?" John grinned and grabbed his gun. You never know with Sherlock when you might need one.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

John went into the cab with Sherlock, telling the cab driver to go to the National Museum of Oddities, which was way less official than it sounded. It was supposedly a competitor to Ripley's Beleive it Or Not, and when they arrived, John could see why. The entire building was shaped like a stomach, complete with a rubbery texture. Already, John knew this was Sherlock's new haven.

"Alimentary, my dear Watson." Sherlock exchanged a grin with John and the two men-turned-boys raced into the stomach building. They put in a few bills in the donation box and proceeded to look at all the grotesque body parts. Sherlock looked over at John after a moment, and saw the largest hedgehog made of porcupine needles. Apparently there were multiple hedgehogs made of porcupine needles. "John. Did you know you have a remarkable resemblance to a hedgehog?"

John frowned. "I was wondering if you'd noticed that. Yeah, actually, I'm completely aware of that fact, thank you very much. The kids at school called me the Human HedgeHog. Mind you, not particularly creative, but I was known for curling up into a ball during nap time, and playing in the forest by myself during recess."

They continued walking through the museum, John could tell Sherlock was quickly becoming bored. He still didn't really know much about the mysterious consulting detective, asides from the knowledge of Mycroft's existence.

"Hey Sherlock, you know basically my entire life story, but what about you?"

Sherlock gave John a calculating glance, and sighed resignedly, knowing John wasn't about to give up. "I lived in a mansion with a nanny, my brother, and I saw my mum a few times." He said without emotion.

"But tell me though," John persisted. "What was it like? What were your habits, pass times, childhood friends? Give me some emotion Sherlock, so I know you're actually a real person. Your life seems fictional."

Sherlock looked down, suddenly gloomy. "Well I suppose if you must know, I had a younger sister. She died when she was born, and I never saw my father again. My mum always locked herself away, and no one ever answered my questions. That's partly why I became a consulting detective, telling others what they couldn't know." He paused. "I was generally unaccepted in the family... except for Mycroft. Mycroft always cared. He had told me that father had found me on his doorstep as a baby, which was fine with me. I had no physical resemblance to any family members, so I'd always assumed I was adopted. The strange thing was though, I was found on the doorstep with a broken fob watch." Sherlock frowned. "At least I had always thought it was broken. When I became alert of the fact that I'd never actually openned it, I was terrified to. I started doing drugs and alcohol to distract myself, but I was always tempted. Now I run after criminals and use hunger to distract myself." Sherlock looked away. "It tempts me John." Sherlock whispered in a broken voice.

Sherlock took the fob watch out of his pocket, running his fingers over the face of it. He then proceeded to throw it at the stomach-wall, watching it sink into the gellatinous surface. John stared at Sherlock. Sherlock looked back coolly. They continued on, finally leaving the museum and hopping into a cab.

"We are never going there again, John." Sherlock stated firmly. "Ever."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o 0o0o0o

Two days of boredom later, an interesting article appeared on the news. The National Museum of Oddities had burned down when the museum curator accidentally placed the biggest cigarette butt ever (World Record Breaker) beside a giant tank of oil. It was later found that the museum curator had actually been sick that day, and had sent in his reckless nephew for him.

"A few peices still remain intact from the blazing inferno that killed three people. Among these objects are a very large metal toe, the smallest painting in the world painted on a thimble, and a pocket watch, with intricate circles etched into it. It is thought the watch had been in the lost and found, and was taken to the police office. Unfortunately, it has been stolen, and one of the prisoners has escaped with it. Back to you, Gary, for sports and weather." the announcer smiled and was replaced by an old man.

John turned off the tv and looked over at his flat-mate. Just then, there was a knock on the door. A teenage girl strut in, looking confident and definitely a rule-breaker. "Sherlock, John." She greeted. Her chocolate brown skin was immaculate, and her hair was in cornrows. She tossed the fob watch to Sherlock. "You. Open it."

Sherlock looked befuddled, for the first time in his life. "Hm let's see, the escaped prisoner. You have a relationship with someone who's older, and your mum and dad have no idea. You've lived in an orphanage. Your shoes were stolen from the shop across the street, and your clothes were just recently stolen in the past few days. You feel out of place, and you'd like to be an archaeologist." Sherlock paused for dramatic effect. "You somewhat know me extremely well. You go by a few names. And you're completely and irrevocably in love with this older man."

The teenager glared at him, then slowly clapped. "Oh bravo. Very clever, Mister Holmes. Great distraction." she grinned sarcasticly. "Open the watch and you'll actually understand who I am." she smirked.

John glaced at Sherlock, knowing he couldn't resist the bait. Sherlock looked down at the fob watch and slid his fingers over the top, looking at the intricate carvings. He took a deep breath and opened the fob watch.

John looked on in awe as a gold mist emerged from the watch, swirling around Sherlock, changing his appearance slowly. His eyebrows almost completely dissapeared, he grew wild bangs, and his hair lightened to a chocolate brown. The teenage girl grinned, watching the metamorphosis without surprise.

The man, looking competely different from Sherlock, grinned back at the girl. "Ah! Mels! Hello! Thanks for that! Can you believe I was temporarily a fictional human?! That is the last time I am reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in the Time Vortex with the TARDIS doors open! How'd you find me here?"

The teenage girl smirked mysteriously, saying, "Spoilers."

The man clapped John on the shoulder, "Yes well, Mels and I ought to be going now. It was great knowing you Watson! I'm the Doctor, by the way, time and space travelling alien from a parallel world that saves the innocent!" With that, the doctor departed with Mels in tow, and the strangest sound could be heard.

John looked utterly flabbergasted, and sat down with his cup of tea, trying to ease his mind into a deep slumber. Maybe he'd wake up to the sound of bomb shells.


End file.
